


Reminiscent Promise

by Kuroya



Series: Warden's Promise [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ali and Mor is if you squint, And Tamlen is a past relationship, And Zev is a very good boyfriend, Basically this is the entire Return to Ostagar DLC, Developing Relationship, Grief/Mourning, IDK how do you do tags, M/M, Return to Ostagar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3609552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuroya/pseuds/Kuroya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After visiting Bann Loren's lands, the company must return to where it all began: Ostagar.  Memories lurk behind every stone, and a promise made in the firelight will be tested in the light of what once was.  It seems closure does not come easily to Gray Wardens, among other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Intimation

Ostagar.

The word hung in the air over the camp, a depressive gloom that stifled even Lelianna's best attempts at conversation, Zevran's usually silver tongue having felt more like lead with one glance at the way their leader was hunched over, eyes lowered and side closely guarded by a protective mabari. Morrigan seemed unimpressed by it, Wynne mildly angry, but it was the two Wardens who were the most affected. And it was surprising how much more subdued the entire party could be when Alistair wasn't making a few wisecracks or otherwise acting like there wasn't a civil war and a Blight crashing around their ears.

It was no secret that the two Gray Wardens had endured a pain that would haunt them - Alistair still nursed the grief of Duncan's death openly, although he had come to terms with it far better than he had following their original recovery - but the exact nature of those terms was... unknown at best. Returning to the ruined fort was not an easy decision to make, and it had pained the elf enough to give his word to recover Cailan's things, never mind setting foot in a place that held so many memories. Alistair at least spoke about the demons that lurked in that place. Riri had remained steadfastly quiet, and if any had heard him speak about it, it would have been Terrivan, the mabari permitted inside the elf's tent to sleep (something Zevran was vaguely jealous of, the warrior was quite handsome).

The air around the fire might as well have been that around a man sentenced to death for all the cheer there was to be found.

Zevran let out a sigh and got up from where he had been sitting next to Lelianna, the other rogue far more trusting of him than the others, to instead pad over to Riri, ignoring the way that the mabari growled at him. "So!" he began, forced cheer in his tone, though he was thankfully skilled enough at such things that it came out sounding natural, "who shall be setting out on your charming quest to reclaim the equipment of the late king?"

The elf lifted his head, his hair falling away from where he had been hiding his face behind it, and for a moment, the Antivan was knocked off-balance by the depth inside those topaz eyes, the depths darker than even the deepest vat of caramel that he had glimpsed in the market of his beloved Antiva City. "I... Alistair and I will go," Riri murmured slowly, with thought. "Morrigan as well, she's the one most likely to get us in without running into trouble."

"Ah." Zevran shot a stunning smile at the Dalish elf, already certain that he would remain at camp. After all, while Morrigan was a predictable staple in the warrior's party, Alistair did not seem to be, and if the ex-Templar was coming along, he was likely replacing Wynne or Lelianna; the expression on the older mage's face made it likely that she would also come. "All the better to get to know-"

"I would like for you to accompany me as well, Zevran."

"-my companions."

The two elves stared at each other for a moment, the assassin blinking a few times before chuckling. "I see, you are going to need stealth. I promise you, my skills are not to be doubted, although I have not had much practice against darkspawn."

Riri seemed on the verge of replying before, with a nudge to his leg from Terrivan, he remembered that they were not as alone as they were when the assassin would allow himself to be cornered around the camp. "You... will have that chance," he murmured softly before getting to his feet. "I might have some supplies in my tent that would suit you better."

If it hadn't been for the serious atmosphere, Zevran might have teased the duty-oriented warrior, but as it was, he had a feeling that this was not a time to test his luck too far. He would have to tread delicately if he was to maintain the delicate trust that the Gray Warden was allowing him. "All right, but I will warn you, if you try to persuade me into Antivan leather, I may get excited enough to kiss you."

He was rewarded with a delicate flush over the tanned cheeks so similar in shade to his own, and the ex-Crow took a moment to savor the reward before retreating back out of retaliation range, waiting until Riri had fed most of his meal to Terrivan and departed for his tent - located the closest to Morrigan, a sign of the apostate's trust, although he was still decidedly closer to the others than to her - before he followed. He ducked into the tent, a playful jest about not being naked already on the tip of his tongue before it withered up and died in his mouth.

Riri had his head hung, and when he glanced through his ivory locks, the amber depths held a haunted gleam that had Zevran hesitating. He knew that look. It was the gaze of a man who was drowning and reaching out for something to grasp onto. It was only a moment before the eyes were hidden once more by the white hair, but it was enough to worry the ex-Crow. This was not the elf who had asked him so curiously about Antiva or blushed so readily at his tales despite insisting that he wanted to hear the endings. This was another glimpse of the private elf that he had been allowed to venture close to, the one who slept curled around his dog and who confessed in a quiet voice that he had never been called handsome before Zevran. It was disorienting, calling up instincts in the ex-Crow that he'd thought he had long forgotten, and he wasn't sure what to feel in regards to them. But he knew enough to know that he didn't want to run, especially not when he sensed this much darkness.

When Riri lifted his gaze again, he had Terrivan leaning against his side in the way that the mabari was so fond of around the camp, something that had prompted complaining from anyone other that Lelianna and Alistair. "I have a few enchanted daggers on the bed that might be a little sturdier for you, as well as a set of leather armor. You can try them on in your tent and bring me whichever you'd prefer in the morning."

"If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask," Zevran purred teasingly, but when that didn't get the expected squawk and spluttered assurances that his intentions were innocent, the rogue frowned. "Riri... is there something you wish to talk about?" He reached forward, originally intending to lay a hand on the larger elf's shoulder but instead gently took the warrior's free hand in his own, changing his mind at the last minute as he lifted it to brush a kiss over the back. "I cannot promise to understand, but I can listen, if you are ready." The Gray Warden had respected his space when he had refrained from probing about his last job, he could afford the same courtesy in return.

"I am not sure I will ever be ready, Zevran," Riri murmured in reply, face turned away, towards Terrivan even as he tried to tug his hand free. "Morrigan and I can keep Alistair together for this, and that's enough."

Zevran reached over, turning Riri's face towards himself, and after a moment of searching those amber eyes, he settled for a kiss to the cheek - not his usual style, but then, he had a feeling that the warrior needed that more than he knew. "If you need me, I will be here. I swore an oath."

Surprise showed on Riri's face before a smile flitted across his lips like a fish across a stream. "If something changes, I'll let you know."

"I'll hold you to that," Zevran replied with a chuckle, collecting his things. "Perish the thought of leaving me to the company of Morrigan and Alistair, I would waste away without your beauty in my sights."

The sound of spluttered surprise as he ducked out of the tent was reassuring, although he had a sinking feeling that it would not last long under the oppression of Ostagar's ramparts.


	2. Stand Vigil

The crunch of the snow underfoot was a familiar sound, reassuring to the elf who padded through the trees with his eyes absently focused upon the familiar crest of dark hair and feathers that made up Morrigan's usual outfit. It may have been more than a few moons since Riri had last taken up the bow and ghosted among the conifers and pines that were around the camp, but if he forced himself to ignore the steady chatter of Zevran as he steadily antagonized Morrigan, he could almost fool himself into thinking that he was back amongst his clan, Tamlen at his side as they searched for a wolf pack that was hunting too close to camp for comfort or perhaps even a bear or a few deer to replenish the stores. His limbs were heavier than they were before, weighed down with the solidness of his massive armor - the sigil of the Gray Wardens emblazoned across his chest, if only to show the world that he was not ashamed of what he was (what a lie that was, but no, he would not admit to that, not now) - but he had grown used to the weight now, strong enough to bear it comfortably across his limbs.

However, that would be dependent upon his ability to ignore the pounding migraine shooting across his temples courtesy of the darkspawn that he could feel seething out of the ruins that he knew the mage was leading them ever closer to, and with a soft sigh, he had to dismiss such fantasies. He had forfeited the right to think of his clan after he had lost Tamlen.

"Here we are," Morrigan stated blandly, pointedly interrupting the middle of one of Zevran's comments about her mother as she reached and held a pine branch aside, "Ostagar."

The fort seemed forlorn, barren and covered in snow, and Riri shivered at the sense of something being very wrong before he tamped it down. Of course the dead would walk here. So many had died, it would be surprising if the ghosts did not linger upon these desecrated grounds. The silence hung over the air, almost seeming to ring over them, and the Dalish had to force back the urge to tuck his elbows closer. It would do no good to cower from a building like a restless child. He had to be strong, and that meant leading them. He could not afford to falter now. "Remember what we're here for," he murmured, turning his gaze to level serious amber eyes at each of the party in turn, "King Cailan's equipment and the missives. Nothing mo-"

Zevran's hand shot out, the closest of his companions, and the smaller elf yanked hard, making the larger stumble a few steps in surprise. No sooner had he moved did the bark near his ear explode, sending a shower of snow and tree into the air in wake of an arrow. "Easier said than done, no?" the assassin replied cheekily, covering the shock on their leader's face skillfully, his hands easily pulling forth his longbow - an Antivan one, and well-made, although he had accepted it graciously from the Gray Warden - and firing off a couple of arrows himself in retaliation.

Morrigan was already casting, making use of the shelter provided by the trees to instead freeze enemies and flick lightning from her fingers even as Alistair drew his own weapons and ran forward to intercept the darkspawn heading towards her. Riri flushed and wheeled, darting into the battle, his rapid taunt relieving the human even as his longsword and dagger plucked out holes in the armor he was up against. The assassin kept up a steady stream of arrows, deciding it would be wise to give Alistair and Riri their space for their first battle in Ostagar since the fort had fallen. He made certain to take particularly vicious aim at any darkspawn that seemed to be giving his Warden trouble - just as Morrigan seemed to take particularly vicious pleasure in sapping the life from the archers whose arrows had a knack for finding chinks in the Templar's armor - and it was with a start that he realized the darkspawn Riri had gutted with an underhanded twist of his dagger was the last of the group.

Morrigan brushed some of her hair out of her face as she came forward, hands glowing. "Turn," she stated gruffly to Alistair, waving one at him, and when he did, she yanked out two of the arrows sharply.

"Dammit!" the Templar yelped, trying to get away before he realized that she'd frozen his feet to the ground. "You could've given me a warning!"

"I prefer watching you squirm," she replied, smirking even as she tugged out a few more and allowed the healing magic to wash over him. "Like a fish in a hawk's jaws."

Riri, on the other hand, stood by a small quartet of cages, one hand resting delicately on the one that was open, its door ripped almost entirely from its hinges. Zevran hesitated in where he was rifling through the fallen darkspawn before he snuck to the other elf's side, bending down to snatch up a handful of snow and rub it between his hands, warming it slightly before using it to wash the tainted blood from the Gray Warden's face and hair. That was enough to stir Riri, the Dalish lifting his head from where he had been remembering the man who had remained in the cage, starving and offering him a key, and pausing to silently offer a prayer for the one who had suffered a fate that the elf hadn't wanted to think about. "If I did not know better," Zevran remarked casually, flashing a smile to the amber eyes that turned to him, "I would say that Alistair enjoys being manhandled."

Riri sighed and stalked over. "Morrigan, stop taunting Alistair! Alistair, hold still so she can heal you!" Sometimes, the Dalish swore that he led a band of children, but surprisingly enough, it was something familiar, something that grounded him in the there and now instead of allowing him to drift into the past. He could already feel that it had been a bad idea to return, missives for the Gray Wardens or not. There were some things he simply wasn't ready to touch yet.

The throbbing sense of nearby darkspawn drawing even nearer drug his attention away from easing the arrows out of the Templar carefully rather than simply yanking as the shapeshifter had been doing, and he let out a muttered curse as he started at a run in the direction he had last seen the assassin. "Zev!" he called, adrenaline rushing through him, and his jaw set when he saw the way the elf was fending off a group of darkspawn alone. "Mor! Ali!" The other two quickly darted in, Alistair slamming in with his shield forward even as the mage shot out a long tongue of flame that had the warriors and rogue skittering away like startled halla.

The fight carried for further this time, spilling them out of the area with the overturned table that had once held torn and stained maps and instead past the quartermaster's old furnace and towards the fire that Duncan had stood by. The Gray Wardens both paused at the sight of it, something that nearly ended with the end of a sword in Riri's arm had Morrigan not frozen the darkspawn, and Zevran and Morrigan exchanged a look, the rogue confused while the mage was unamused.

"It doesn't seem right, what they've done to it," Alistair murmured, subdued, the two Gray Wardens sharing the sense of loss. The human remembered a man he had considered father, one of the few he had been permitted in his life, while the elf... the elf recalled a man who had been his last connection to a world he had become exiled from. Duncan had saved him when he ought to have been abandoned, taken him when he had deserved to die for what he had done to Tamlen, and yet the man had offered him a second home and a second chance, more than Riri had deserved. It was a mixture of feelings, something that the elf had firmly shut within his mind so that he could not examine anything beyond the threat immediate to them, but this return... it opened something inside him that was raw and pained, a vulnerability. He almost wished Duncan had survived in that moment, simply to give him the chance to slip off the mantle of leader. "I know it wasn't his fire, but... he kept vigil by it for so long that like this... he really is gone."

Riri shook his head, forcing the thoughts away like Terrivan did a particularly persistent fly, and turned his gaze away, hiding behind his shaggy white hair as he started towards the mabari pens. "He keeps a new vigil now, Alistair. There is little honor greater than to pass in battle." The elf stopped, one hand covering his mouth as he backed away, the picture of a startled deer - the stench from the pens was a clear enough indicator of the fates of the few dogs who had been too sick to participate in the battle and unable to escape as Terrivan had. Death would have been far kinder.

Zevran nudged Riri's shoulder, the assassin smiling as he dangled a key in front of his face before snatching it back. "While I won't turn away gold, my asking price for one invaluable key won't go any lower than a kiss from a handsome Gray Warden."

The warrior's eyes were darker than usual, darting over the Antivan's shoulder to see Alistair heaving the fire back into shape and Morrigan rolling her eyes as she flicked her hand to urge a flame up (with a loud declaration of "If your stupidity attracts more darkspawn, don't look to me to help you" accompanying it), but the ex-Crow found himself with a shy peck to his cheek before the key slipped through his fingers.

"I'm all right, Zev," Riri murmured, answering the unspoken question in the jest. 'I have to be.' He made to walk away, but Zevran took his hand, stopping him even as the assassin turned over his hand, not seeming to care about the fact that the Dalish was in bloody gauntlets as he pressed a kiss to the palm, one of the few parts of the armor that was somewhat clean. Cheeks pinking, the warrior yanked himself free and stalked across the fort, startling Alistair from where he had been lifting a large piece of wood into the starting fire and causing him to groan when it landed on him and Morrigan to chuckle at the sound. The elf stalked across to where the king had made his camp, stuffing the key in with a surprising amount of force - as though he was slamming the door on the memories that threatened the edges of his psyche - before heaving the chest open and sliding the letters into his pack.

Morrigan turned sharp gold eyes onto the assassin, crossing her arms, and Zevran shivered; that was the glare of a woman who would very much like to freeze him solid and leave him for the wolves, and while he usually made a policy of not fearing such threats, the apostate was very likely a worthy exception to such. "What did you say to him?" she demanded, voice sharp enough to make Alistair look between them warily, ready to negate any magic before it reached the air. The shapeshifter did tend to be harsh towards the assassin, something that Zevran had marked for a sign of a fading torch for the Warden. Riri had never returned the sentiment, regarding her as his best friend and perhaps the one who understood the little things of being a child of nature, but that did not mean that the Antivan could not recognize when to tread softly.

"Nothing unwelcome, I assure you." The assassin shifted his weight slightly. "If I had to hazard a guess, the sight of the mabari upset him." Morrigan did not inquire further; she was knowledgeable enough to figure out that the canines had fallen upon each other before they succumbed.

Alistair was not quite as much. "Mabari? There are more?"

"None living," Morrigan snapped, though her tone was missing some of its usual acid. "The... cold finished the job the darkspawn begun."

Riri returned from where he'd been exploring, his gear bloodied but otherwise none too the wear aside from some scratches and a few new dents in his armor, having taken a moment to glance across at what was coming and rummage among some of the remaining supplies to find some more equipment to tuck away into his pack. "The rest of the armor must be further in," he stated simply. "We cannot rely on Orlais to come, although it bitters me to confirm it. The letters would have aided Loghain far more than the Wardens." The elf sighed, eyes troubled and voice heavy, though he kept his shoulders straight and chin high, fending off the questions he could feel brewing among the other three. "Let's keep moving. The darkspawn will not wait forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I was attempting to imply that the remaining mabari were forced into cannibalism before they starved to death or were weak enough to be taken down by the darkspawn. I'm not sure how clear that was, hence why I'm adding it here in the notes at the end.


	3. Warriors' Wraith

The sight of it nearly made Riri sick.

He had been hurt and angry as he trailed behind Duncan, something inside him lost without anything to grasp onto, like water trickling through a stream. He had been confused and hurt, desperate to end the pain that the man would not permit him, and the guilt had settled in his chest with a weight that drove him to search for a way to make himself suffer. He'd come across humans who had looked down upon him for being an elf, and he had been on edge enough to snap at them with the shem that had never been part of his vocabulary (Tamlen's, of course, had included it, but not Riri's, never Riri's), and although Duncan had treated him as an equal... it had been Cailan who had given the Dalish his first hint that maybe the world wasn't crashing down around his pointed ears without Tamlen and without his clan. The king had been charming, surprised that he was an elf but none the less welcoming for it, and it had provoked the first attempt at mirth from the warrior since his world had come crashing around him.

He had been a fool, yes, and Riri would never have bent a knee to him... but he had been a good man, for all his faults, and he had not deserved to be left to be used as target practice for the darkspawn, naked save for the arrows that had pierced his flesh and left for the elements to ravage.

"You deserved better than this," the Warden murmured, lowering his head. Alistair beside him faltered, laying a hand on his shoulder, and even Morrigan had the tact to recognize that her scathing commentary would prove unwelcome. The elf struggled for a moment, mentally digging his heels into the ground as he tried to stave off the memories beating at his door, but it was the sight of Zevran shifting his weight in his peripherals that had the Gray Warden turning.

The stubby darkspawn looked just like any other, but the swaying of his hands within that dark aura to summon forth the dead... it sent a chill up Riri's spine. "Mor, Ali," he spoke, but they saw it too, the apostate already lifting her staff. Attacked from both sides, with Cailan's martyred corpse dangling above them, the forest was far enough away for Riri to push it from his mind even as he kept an eye out for Zevran's lithe form, the elf having reached for his blades rather than his bow. It was a harder fight as Alistair and Riri fought to keep as much attention upon them as possible even as Morrigan behind them had to give up on freezing her side and instead transformed into a large bear, roaring as she tore the bones apart.

Zevran shot uneasy looks back at the Warden, almost as if sensing how quickly his mind was slipping, but Riri couldn't help it. The return of the dead to the land of the living, unfeeling creatures that had to be torn apart to die once more... ghosts were walking, and among them were the very things he had slammed shut so firmly in his mind. The Dalish rarely was a talkative leader, but there were indications of his thought process; right now, those indications were closed off, like stones in a brook, and it left Alistair and Morrigan faltering, heading in the opposite directions on a couple occasions even as they advanced, pushing back the darkspawn into the area under the looming specter of the Tower of Ishal.

Alistair took one look at the building and turned pale under the blood splattered across his face. He glanced back at the elf, as though to beg for a reprieve he knew would not come, but Riri kept moving, his amber eyes hardened like sap, Zevran trailing after him with an arrow nocked to his longbow, the assassin already having been forced to intercept blades that would have taken the larger's head from his shoulders. "Riri," he murmured softly, laying hand to the Warden's shoulder, and it was only courtesy of many long nights of Crow training that he managed to duck the longsword that wheeled with the warrior. The two stared at each other, the golden eyes wild in a way that Zevran had never seen before, and it was with the air of a wounded animal that the Gray Warden broke the contact, instead glancing at Alistair and Morrigan.

"The dead hold no power here, Alistair. None more than what you allow them."

The Templar nodded shakily, taking a deep breath and letting it out even as he fidgeted, grip tightening on his sword. For a moment, Zevran wished that they had brought Terrivan, if only because the mabari was a strong presence for both Gray Wardens; as it was, the dog had started howling the moment they got within five miles of the place and they'd been forced to send him back to camp so as not to alert the darkspawn. "Let's just... keep moving," he stated, for once without a quick quip on his tongue, but then, it was unsurprising given the state the pair were in. "The sooner we get rid of that bastard, the better."

The assassin hesitated as they passed beneath the arch leading to the Tower of Ishal, step slowing as he glanced at the two warriors who had not put aside their weapons even as Morrigan had slung her staff back over her shoulder. Things had been slowly worsening the further they ventured into Ostagar, and although the Antivan would have fled with his tail between his legs had he been back with the Crows - to be honest, he would have slipped a poisoned dagger between their ribs and taken his chances with the shapeshifter if he wasn't so interested in the other elf - he found himself reaching for his blades as well. He was more deadly with a dagger than a bow, he justified to himself, but it rang hollow even in his own head. He was worried about leaving the two in charge of their protection when they were so close to the edge.

The fight that progressed them through the courtyard was swifter for Zevran's blades aiding in the fight, and a suitable distraction for the two warriors, but the difference between the two became apparent at the doorway. Alistair hesitated at the large structure, taking a moment to compose himself before pressing onwards after Morrigan; Riri, on the other hand, did not falter for a moment, the elf having fallen back into his duty-oriented method of thought. It was easier to put on his blinders, focus only on the sensation of the blades in his hands, the darkspawn in front of him, the throbbing in his head from the lurking horde, the anger he felt over tainting this place. Exploring any deeper was dangerous.

Laying eyes on the foul creature had the Dalish darting forward, death in his eyes, but Zevran let out a cry of warning, diving forward to close his fingers - just barely - around the larger elf's elbow. It took all of the assassin's strength, and body weight and momentum, to topple the warrior to the floor, a fireball exploding in the air above them and singing the ex-Crow's back. Wincing as he straightened up before he quickly hid it, he pushed himself to his feet before offering a hand to the Gray Warden. "Need a hand, mi querido?" he asked cheekily, taking heart in the shock in those amber eyes for the moment he saw them.

"... Thank you," Riri murmured, taking it and pushing himself up to help the smaller elf. The movement left the Dalish right in Zevran's personal space - or rather, left the Antivan in Riri's personal space, the warrior was always so much more conscious of his boundaries than the flirtatious assassin - and the world almost seemed to be holding its breath as they stared at each other, something inside of the Warden breaking as he tried to lean forward just a touch. Something inside of Zevran told him that this was wrong, that it was taking advantage of the other somehow even if he couldn't up this finger on why, but he couldn't manage to free himself long enough to bear moving, desiring to know the taste of the other elf's lips upon his own with a startling amount of passion. He couldn't even bring himself to lean forward to close the last of the distance between them, a task that was usually something akin to child's play for the assassin but he almost feared the other to return to his senses, run away like a startled mark if the Antivan made a single motion to startle him from this sudden bravery.

The roar of an Ogre broke the delicate moment.

Riri jolted away from Zevran like a skittish halla, cheeks burning as he darted into the first floor proper of the tower. Foolish, stupid... of all of the mistakes he could have made, that would have been one of them. He was fond of the man, yes, how could he not be when the other elf brought him a measure of peace and belonging that not even Alistair or Morrigan could offer him, but he... he had... he couldn't even put it into words here, in the privacy of his own thoughts. He was a young hunter again, slipping, standing upon ice that was rapidly thinning under his boots, and he was darting after a laughing voice urging him that the other side of the shore was just a little farther even though he knew that he had barely reached the deepest part of the river yet and that to fall now would mean the death of him. His blinders were choking his senses, yet he couldn't cast them aside, not now, not with that rushing current threatening to sweep him away the moment that it had the chance to lap at his boots. With his armor, he would drown just as surely as Terrivan would find a bone.

A stronger man than Riri would have cast aside the blinders. The elf, however, could not afford to, and instead, he clutched them tighter, sweeping forward through the tower like a wraith, outpacing Morrigan and Alistair easily.

It took him a moment to realize that they had cleared the tower, and he let out a breath, glancing over his shoulder through his shaggy white hair. "Alistair? Morrigan? Zevran?" he called, reaching for something to ground him even as he stared at the barricaded door that surely would not have been much of an exit.

"One moment, _mi querido_ ," the assassin murmured, stepping out of the shadows nearby, nodding. "Alistair suffered quite a few injuries from the Ogre, and I'm not quite sure if your apostate intends on healing him or harming him."

If the Dalish had been himself, he might have jested back with a teasing ' _knowing Morrigan and Alistair, probably both_ '. Instead, the elf took a deep breath and let it out, rifling through a handful of the corpses before finding... whatever it was that he had been looting the bodies for. "Turn," he instructed, voice firm, and for a moment, the Antivan's hands started towards his belt, instincts screaming at him that an injured animal was turning upon him.

But this was Riri. He was in no danger. Forcing his hands aside, he turned, tensing in spite of himself as the warrior deftly pushed his armor aside before he felt the stinging cold of... a health poultice? "You don't have to do that, _mi querido_ ," he jested softly, attempting to pull away. "It was a little burn, I've fought with worse."

A firm hand held him still, refusing to allow him to pull away, and the assassin gave up trying to push his luck. For all their briskness, there was a kind of gentleness to the touches, caring that stirred something within Zevran. No one had cared for him like that, no one save...

The feeling of those hands retreating startled him slightly, and he turned to see Morrigan tugging in a lagging Alistair, the mage scolding the Templar over something that could have ranged from his stupidity to the color of his smalls for all the context she gave. With a shove forward from the shapeshifter, the warrior grumbled and peered into the hole. "So this... is where we're going next?" he asked warily, guarded, uncertain whether or not to be relieved to not be forced higher, where the memories might be all the more potent. "Can't say I'm too enthusiastic about what we might find."

"Because what we've found up here is any better," Morrigan retorted with a roll of her eyes. "At least a cavern might be warmer."

"Warmer, you say?" Zevran perked up slightly, the Antivan looking forward to the opportunity to warm up - Ferelden was entirely too cold for his tastes unless there was someone to warm his bedroll. "Sounds trustworthy enough to venture into a dark hole, if I do say so."

If the Dalish had any reaction, he didn't voice it. Instead, he started down, leaving the other three to glance at each other (Morrigan and Zevran more than Alistair) before following after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mi querido - my darling/dear


	4. Nostalgic Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a quick note, for those who have never played the DLC, the walls in the tunnels are the same as what's in the Elvish Ruins in the Dalish elf origin. It was actually the inspiration for this, alongside the next (and final) chapter, which was meant to be with this but it got long so I separated it.
> 
> As a warning, there is a panic attack in here, so if you trigger easily, this is not for you.

Riri started trembling the very moment that he first set foot into the tunnels, his face paling to attempt to match his hair even as his chest tightened impossibly, drawn close like a corset. No no no, this was all wrong, he wasn't supposed to be here, his hands shook even as he shakily took the blows from the darkspawn that had been waiting at the entrance. His heart clenched, and he struggled to even put one foot in front of the other, push further into the tunnels against the memories. The walls... they seemed to close in on him, squeezing the air from his lungs, daring him to turn his back on them, yet he didn't falter. His ears were consumed by a soft ringing, drowning out the sound of even his own footsteps where they would echo back at him, heaving excuses and lies and accusations right into the bleeding wounds.

Alistair had calmed the moment they were in the tunnels, seeming to regain some of his color and sense once away from the sights that had ravaged his nightmares. Maybe that was why he spotted Riri's expression before the others, concern showing on his features. "Riri!" he cried, reaching a hand for the elf only for the warrior to slip through his fingers like a ghost, barely glancing at the walled off paths before he kept going, breathing too harsh to be anything close to normal.

Zevran was faster than the Templar in his armor, concern showing in his gaze. He had never seen the usually proud elf so close to unsteady, and it worried him. " _Querido_ ," he called, speeding his pace. " _Querido, espere_ -"

A loud screeching and chittering was all the warning they had before the spiders had fallen on them, and in that moment, Riri's mind snapped.

"No!" The Dalish screamed, dropping his weapons and backing away, hands hiding his face. "No!" Flashes of memory once hidden firmly behind locks were rushing through his mind's eye, cheerful laughter and cocky assurances that everything would be okay. ' _You're always the cautious one_.' A bright smile that he would have done anything for, a reckless spirit that he had kept out of trouble, the one soul who had always been kind to him. ' _Skittish shem see a bear and think it a demon._ ' Apples shared in the summer, accidental brushes of hands, a feeling stronger than duty welling up like a rushing tide from a shattered dam. ' _What do you suppose it says?_ ' Shared furs in the winter, a gleeful child showing off how to hunt rabbits. swift feet chasing each other through the forest and startling birds. ' _Always the cautious one..._ '

"Tamlen!"

"Riri!"

Fingers pressed against his palms, prying his hands from where they were clasping his face, blunt nails digging into his forehead deeply enough to draw blood, and for one terrible moment, Riri didn't recognize the face over him before it solidified into Zevran, concern written across the assassin's features even as he crouched in front of the Warden pressed against the door, shielding him as best he could from the humans in the doorway even as he murmured in Antivan, a buzz of foreign words that conveyed nothing short of worry. A whimper escaped Riri's throat, pained and afraid, the Dalish barely clinging to the ex-Crow as the memories clawed at him, tearing him apart now that the damn had finally shattered.

It took concentrated effort on Zevran's part to convert his tongue to Common, the fear that shot through him driving the words from his mind - because yes, it was fear, there was no other word to describe the sensation that went through him when the Dalish had crumpled like a frightened child and started screaming in the face of enemies he could ordinarily dispatch without batting an eye. "Riri, _querido_ , it's okay, _estoy aquí_ , you're safe here," he whispered, soft and soothing even as he slipped his fingers under those lax palms, cupping the larger elf's cheeks gently. "I won't let them touch you, Riri, _te prometo._ "

"I want to leave this place," the Warden breathed, and Zevran nodded.

"I know, _mi querido_ , and we will. Do you trust Morrigan enough to let her lead you?" He hated that he would be forced to entrust the shaken warrior to her, best friends or otherwise, but she was the only proper ranged fighter in their little party, and he didn't trust a blade in the Dalish's hand at the moment. The larger elf hesitated, and Zevran found himself leaning forward to press a kiss to that brow before he realized what he was doing or the fact that he had just smeared blood across his lips between the nail marks and the splattered remains of earlier foes. "It will only be for a while, _mi querido._ I would not leave you like this."

Riri nodded jerkily, and Zevran turned, shifting slightly but ready to turn back if the sight of the spiders happened to bring on a second round. Instead, to his relief, Morrigan had placed herself in the gap, a scowl on her face even as her hand glowed with what little healing magic she knew. "Close your eyes and grasp the back of my robes," she instructed firmly, and the warrior nodded, reaching to close his hand around them, following after her like a child even as, with one last reluctant glance at the two, Zevran stalked off with a nod to Alistair. The assassin stole into the shadows, his blades swift and silent as he picked off as many as he could, aware that the Templar and the shapeshifter would struggle alone.

The moment that he reached clear air again, the assassin came back, immediately taking Riri's hand. " _Querido?_ " he asked, seeing the way the elf was shivering with his eyes closed tightly, shoulders hunched in as though to protect himself. He flinched as Morrigan cast a tongue of flame, and already Zevran was bristling up to snap at Morrigan.

He didn't need to. "Dammit, witch, stop that!" Alistair shouted, huffing as he sheathed his blade. "Even I can see how Riri's been jumping when you cast that damn fire spell and I'm over here!"

"Fine, 'tis no skin off my nose if you do not wish for me to spare you from darkspawn," Morrigan sniffed haughtily, though she touched a hand briefly to the elf's shoulder in a silent apology before they continued down the path. The man was right, but not for the reasons he thought - each explosion of heat had the Dalish recollecting the explosions of fire across his vision, the signs that he should have been more cautious, but he'd been weak, he'd been foolish, and now he had to pay the price of breathing when he ought to have been interred within the earth. He struggled to push back the whispers that he already was, all it would take is one stray movement for everything to come crashing down around his head and he would be trapped to slowly fade from this world, instead latching onto Zevran's hand and voice. The assassin had said that he was safe and that he would get them out of the - _cavern?_ \- tunnel that they were currently traversing. And the Warden believed him. He had to. It was the last thing his sanity was hinging upon.

The assassin took up the lead silently, Riri's hand held tightly in his own, and when the Dalish lagged, he would urge him forward, a smile on his face when he really wanted to let it fade. What expression he would rather wear... he had no idea, but he knew that it would not be a smile. It could not be after what he had seen.

The outside light had Riri running towards it as he let go of Zevran's hand, dropping his head and taking in greedy gulps of the cold air. The shaggy white hair had come around to hide those amber eyes, but the Antivan wasn't going to let that stand. After giving the Warden a few moments to compose himself, he approached, careful to let his footfalls sound so as not to startle the Dalish before he laid a gentle hand to Riri's shoulder. " _Querido..._ "

"It's nothing." The warrior was already attempting to shut down, draw himself in and hide underneath the mantle of the leader, but the assassin wouldn't have it even as Morrigan and Alistair pretended not to notice what was going on, though both were intent on listening, she far better about her air of nonchalance than he. She had more practice at it, after all.

" _Querido_ , it is not nothing when you are suffering from a panic attack in the middle of a cave surrounded by enemies." He sighed; he didn't want to force Riri into something he was uncomfortable with, not when he himself knew the pain of having mistakes that endured each day that you drew breath and were only manageable when shoved aside and locked away, but he couldn't just leave the Warden after the terror he had glimpsed in those amber depths. Even the memory of it shook him to the core, concern rising in a way that it hadn't before, something he attributed to the things that Riri stirred within him. The Dalish was one of the few reasons to live that he had left, and he wasn't sure he would be able to go on without the elf who would force food into his hands and tell him not to even think about feeding it to the mabari because Terrivan wouldn't eat it. "You don't have to talk about it now, but... at least promise me you will talk about it with someone eventually, even if it is only the dog."

".... Thank you." The relief in the tone was palpable, and Zevran nodded, an easy quip on his tongue before they were interrupted by the sound of shifting snow, like an avalanche across a mountainside, something that the Antivan had never before experienced but the Dalish was more than slightly familiar with.

The Ogre that had laid dead in the field was rising once more, and Alistair let out a pained cry at the sight of the monster's chest, or more specifically, at the hilt protruding from it. "Duncan's sword..." he gasped, and Riri's jaw firmed even as his head lifted, the elf falling back into leader mode. He was still shaken from the tunnels, from the walls that had closed in around him in a suffocating manner as they had screamed at him the blood on his brow from Tamlen - the brow that Zevran had brushed a kiss across, as though he deserved such things - but he could not afford to falter. He may not have been as close to Duncan as the Templar had been, and although the man had been far kinder to a bitter, self-hating elf than he had deserved, he also knew that this vengeance was not his to take. He owed his fellow Gray Warden that much.

"Alistair, you take the Ogre. Morrigan, you and Zevran keep the other undead off him. The Necromancer.... the Necromancer is mine." The bite in his tone was honest, something that Alistair accepted as grief over their lost Gray Warden while the mage and the rogue exchanged looks. They had never seen the elf like this before, and it was almost disturbing how much bitterness he held, like a Templar over a mage. Still, they could not find it in themselves to argue, and set to their tasks, although Zevran many times glanced towards the elf who shrugged off the blows of nearby skeletons to attack the darkspawn conjurer.

Blood gathered in the snow, running in rivulets to once again stain the snows of Ostagar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Querido - darling / dear  
> Espere - Wait (formal command)  
> Estoy aquí - I'm here  
> Te prometo - I promise you


	5. Scattered Ashes

"Alistair."

The Templar turned at his name, holding his tongue as the Antivan and the Dalish separated from where they had trekked through the tunnel one more time, Zevran having distracted the Gray Warden with tales of his beloved Antiva City something that had teased a couple smiles onto both of their lips (Riri had never quite known a home before he heard the assassin speak of Antiva, but he found comfort in the words all the same). "What do you need?"

Riri let out a sigh. "I... know that it should not matter... but if you would like... I would like for you to wield Duncan's blade. I... I believe that he would have wished for you to have it should he have had the chance to bestow it." The elf fidgeted, unfamiliar with handing out weapons like that, and it showed, his usual confidence on hold with the recent memories still fading.

Alistair blinked and then laughed softly, shaking his head. "I... I'm honored, Riri," he stated, reaching over to clap the elf on the shoulder. "But I think... I would think that he'd rather you have it. He had a lot of faith in you. Faith that I didn't have until it was almost... almost too late."

The corner of the Dalish's mouth twitched upwards before he lowered his head. "Then I am honored to carry it at my side," he murmured softly before he hesitated. Their business had been done, and yet... the elf felt that not all of the ghosts of Ostagar had yet been laid to rest. Ignoring Morrigan's indignant huff, he strode back to the forlorn figure on the bridge, swallowing hard at the sight of Cailan. He had known that it was there, but that did not make the hurt any easier. Perhaps death would never again be something he could look at so casually. But, as Zevran had told him with his hands and his eyes, death should never come easy to the ones who matter. It was what separated men and elves and dwarves from the beasts that Morrigan ran with.

"They've left him to rot. We have to do something." Alistair's voice was pained, the Templar having come over after the warrior, and Morrigan and Zevran trailed after, obviously unwilling to leave the two Gray Wardens alone given how Riri's breakdown had left him.

"Cut him down and leave him for the wolves. He made his fate, and he is gone." the shapeshifter's voice was brisk, harsh, pragmatic to the core, every inch the same creature of instinct that she herself had been.

Alistair bristled. "So what, now we're going to punish him for being dead? What's next, should we start throwing out the items from your pack because they're just trinkets and only going to slow us down?"

"Why I-! You do not carry my belongings, they are no burden to you, so this is hardly the same thing! Pausing to bury him would inconvenience us all, and as you said, he has been left to rot, the very act would leave us stinking of death and no doubt attract predators!"

"Enough." Riri's voice was hard. "Cailan was not my king, but he was of royal blood. Giving him a pyre would be the least of what he deserved, even if he was foolish."

"This is foolishness. He is dead and gone, what difference would it make whether he is in a wolf's belly or burned to ashes?" Morrigan had her arms crossed over her chest, lips pressed into a fine line, and Zevran was secretly with her. He had no wish to carry a corpse far enough to burn, and besides, she did have a point. It made no difference where you died.

"Morrigan. We are burning him. Either help or go stay with your mother."

The shapeshifter's teeth closed with an audible snap, the air around them seeming to crackle with ozone as she glared down the elf. She looked furious, her golden eyes flashing, and it seemed as if she would throw lightning at him the same way she so often did to darkspawn before she turned on her heel and marched off, back straight and obviously displeased. Riri knew that he would have to go to her later to calm her feathers, but well... he could not turn away.

Perhaps it was the memories having been so fresh, or perhaps the burning clench of not being permitted to remain for Tamlen's funeral... but he didn't think he could allow Cailan to go unburied. The thought of having failed once more in his tasks, particularly for someone who had at least spoken to him as an equal (or as much of an equal as a king could be to a commoner) rather than as a man to a Dalish elf. He had not known Riri's hatred of being Dalish, the shame of having failed his clan in Tamlen's fate, but he had done perhaps one of the few things there was that a stranger could do for him. He had been reckless, yes, and a fool, but he had deserved far better than to be left for any more abuse.

"He was a good man who hoped too much and died too young," Alistair murmured, seeming to mirror some of Riri's thoughts without realizing it. "He deserves what little honor we can afford to grant him."

"We'll cut him down once we have the pyre arranged." The warrior choked out, his voice steady, his throat tight, aware of Zevran's eyes on him as he walked away. Let the assassin think that he held something for the man. He could not bear to put voice to something that clawed so badly at his throat, and even the thought of burying Tamlen... his heart screamed at him. He had been wrong to leave. He should have been the one to die. But he drew breath where Tamlen did not and there was nothing he could do about that now.

He could only burn Cailan and hope it would be enough to pretend, just for a while, that he had not failed in his duty.

It was while he paced near the Chantry that Riri hesitated, drawing short. He licked his lips before he ducked into the small area where he had met Alistair. It was where Zevran found him, the warrior standing forlornly in the center of the room with a dented steel chalice in his hand. "This was... where I became a Warden," Riri murmured softly, turning his head slightly at the familiar clink of one of the assassin's daggers nudging against a vial of poison. "Duncan and Alistair brought three of us here. I was the only one to walk out alive." A finger, free of the metal gauntlet, traced the edge gently, as though he was tracing a pattern on a lover's skin. "It seems like a lifetime ago."

"In a way, it was, _mi querido_." The Antivan padded forward, cocking his head to the side slightly as he thought to the smile that had given him hope, the ferocity of burning amber that had given him a second chance when he hadn't deserved it. "You were a different man then. Though I imagine far less handsome without that armor. Very commanding. Did I mention that I like powerful things?"

"I'm sure you've mentioned it a few times," Riri chuckled softly, shaking his head at the obvious attempt to focus on light things and pushing aside the blush that flamed across his cheeks, a first for the Dalish, but then something between them had changed. Zevran had seen him at his weakest, when he was shaking and scared, and he had acted before the others had. He had put a hand to his cheek and told him that he was safe. It was a word he had not known before, Tamlen had never been safe... but it had been something that had proven true. He may not have understood Antivan, but he could figure out enough that, if he was careful to block out the parts behind why his grip on reality had snapped, the assassin cared.

He supposed they had been sliding towards this since the moment that he had chosen to spare the other elf, drawn together and joined in a way neither of them had understood. It had just been a matter of getting there.

Riri sighed and slid the chalice into his pack, pushing back the memories as he did so. Maybe one day he would show it to Alistair and the two could reminisce about what once had been, but for now, he could only push the past back behind a door and shove the bolt home. "We should get moving," he murmured finally. "I would rather not be searching for wood when the sun goes down." Zevran nodded in agreement with an easy chuckle, and as he turned, the Dalish hesitated. "Zevran."

"Hmm?" The assassin paused, half-turned, polite curiosity on his face.

So many words warred on Riri's tongue - apologies, questions, gratitude - and for a moment, he had no idea why he called out. It had been impulsive, slipping from his mouth before he could think to quiet them, and he almost wished he could catch them again in his hands, as though he was five years old again and running beneath the trees attempting to catch snowflakes with Tamlen. But those days were long gone, consigned to the halls of memory, and it was only the two of them now. It was with that thought that he found the words once more. "One day."

"Pardon?"

"One day." The elf lifted his chin, amber eyes flashing once with sincerity. "I'll tell you. I promise."


End file.
